


Destiel D/s series

by cybergirl614



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Normal Life, Dom/sub, Grief, Hurt/Comfort, Light BDSM, M/M, Master/Slave Roleplay, Oneshot Series, Rough Oral Sex, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-03
Updated: 2016-03-23
Packaged: 2018-05-24 12:27:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6153769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cybergirl614/pseuds/cybergirl614
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Cas are doing a scene--a kinky scene--when it gets to be a little more than Dean bargained for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Proper Destiel PWP

**Author's Note:**

> I'm rather happy to say, after a year of writing slash, I have finally succeeded in writing a real PWP. Err, anyway.

Dean clamped his eyes shut as they began streaming. He’d normally have otherwise patently hated himself for this, but…he was a little caught up right now. He heard Cas over him make a sound of appreciation in addition to the groaning and thrusting that was trying to make off with his tonsils.

He’d been trying to learn to deep-throat for a couple sessions now, and he thought he finally had the hang of it. The pad of a thumb traced one of the tracks down his cheeks, he heard a whispered, “oh, that’s right, Dean. Show me how much you want me. You want me so bad, keep going, you’d do anything for your Master…” Then, just when he thought they were there, a particularly hard thrust tripped his gag reflex and Dean tried to inhale but got his own saliva instead where it dripped from his mouth. Panic mounting, he jerked ineffectually for a moment until he felt his mouth empty, the pressure of his Dom straddling his chest lift, and the press of hands on his shoulders, moving to help him sit up. His world spun as he sat upright just in time to retch. 

“Hey, now, don't puke,” Cas’ gravel voice whispered in his ear, although the tone was soft, the words bereft of the usual edge they took when they were doing a scene. Cas’ hands were easy down Dean’s sides as he smoothed sweat from the flushed skin. 

Dean retched but mercifully, nothing came up. He coughed twice, sputtering, leaning over the side of the bed until a steadying hand on his shoulder pulled him back. Despite himself, he was still shaking as Cas pulled him into his arms. 

“Take it easy,” he breathed, and Dean merely nodded, swallowing. 

"Are you alright? Do you want to keep going?" Cas asked a few moments later. 

“Mm, uh, yeah,” he muttered when he finally could speak again, swiping at the tear stains on his cheeks. 

 

“Mmm, no, you,” Cas said, a far softer tone taking over as he stopped Dean with a light hand on Dean’s wrist.

“What?” Dean croaked.

“I put them there, I’ll do that.” Cas replied as his thumb skimmed Dean's cheekbone. “Mine, remember?” He smiled, his eyes flashing with a hint of an oddly soft emotion as he chased away the errant drops of water with his forefinger. 

“See, hmm? I take care of what is mine.”

“You do,” Dean echoed hoarsely, nestling against Cas’ shoulder for a moment. 

“That’s right, my good boy.”

“’course, Master.”

Cas held him for a few moments before relinquishing him, and Dean was perfectly content with that. 

“You…” Cas said as he leaned in for a brutally hungry kiss, “Are…so….damn…beautiful.” The words came between the press of his lips and teeth to Dean’s, probing in, demanding, and Dean groaned into the kisses and hummed contentedly as he welcomed Cas’ tongue into his mouth. God, he wanted every part of his Dom. 

“Hmm, what do you say we have another go at that lovely ass of yours?” Cas’ fingers wormed down towards Dean’s crack, groping, kneading, nails biting at flesh enough to make Dean shiver with excitement. 

“Oh, hell yeah!” Dean gushed, clearing his throat.

“Speak to me with respect, you heathen fuckboy,” Cas said, shifting suddenly to slap the back of Dean’s head with an open palm. 

Dean chuckled at the thunk and remembered himself. 

“Oh, uhm, yes, Master.”

“That’s right, my fuckboy. Now, turn around…” 

Dean complied, groaning with excitement as Cas pulled out the plug that held him open and ready. 

Cas stroked down the back of Dean's thighs gently for a moment as he readied himself. 

He felt Cas push in, and then they were at it, little noises of ecstasy escaping him.


	2. No Less Profound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> another oneshot in the series-ish deal here....
> 
> When disaster strikes, a grief-stricken Dean goes to his Dom when he doesn't know what else to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had some heavy shit in my life lately so this is getting it out, I guess. Sorry, no sex, but...feels?

Dean lay shaking, his chest wracked by heavy sobs. “Oh, goddamnit,” he swore, reaching to claw at his face again, which still stung from the tracks of his own fingernails, but Cas’ firm hand to his wrist stopped him. 

His Dom rolled so that he was on top of him, his arms tight around his shoulders, hanging on as Dean, sputtered sides heaving with what seemed far too convulsive to be mere weeping. Cas pressed his forehead to his sub’s, cupping the back of Dean’s head as he continued to shake. 

“Goddamnit,” Dean said again, his voice a strangled, unfamiliar hoarse blur in his own ears, too faint and brittle to be himself, it seemed. 

Cas rolled off of Dean, loosening his grip to leave only a gentle hand on Dean’s shoulders. But as he did, the emptiness, the lack of purpose and the pain hit again.

John was gone. John…John was dead. It was the day after the funeral. Sammy had gone off with his girlfriend, shaking and silent, and Dean, Dean had gotten in his car and driven, screaming at the sky, going to get lost until he couldn’t tell where he was without a map, and driven some more until he recognized the area again. And somehow, somehow he had ended up here, at Cas’ house. Cas, who had been at the service, quiet and standing in the back, who’d called and left messages when Dean wouldn’t answer his phone, had wordlessly ushered his friend inside. 

“Dean?” Castiel had asked, his eyes full of depth of the pain of empathy that permeated Dean’s broken expression. 

Dean had mumbled something unintelligible.

“Hmm?” Cas had stepped in closer, taking Dean’s chin in his hands gently, resting his forehead against his sub’s for a moment as he gently kissed Dean’s cheek. 

“Make me feel something, Cas.” He’d choked out as his eyes remained pressed shut

“Oh, Dean. Of course I will.”

So here they were now. Dean in Cas’ arms, finished with an attack of uncontrollable sobbing, having already long screamed himself hoarse at a sky where a God who didn’t care hid behind clouds and streaks of blue and white. 

Maybe there was no God, or at any rate, certainly no God who cared for his pain. 

But there was his very human friend, his Dom. 

Dean whispered from where he lay facing the wall, “Please, please bite me again, Cas.” 

He felt Castiel shift beside him, moving to lie flush to his own back, pushing Dean over onto his stomach. He let his body follow the movement without helping, letting himself be handled like a rag doll, and felt the sharpness of teeth sink into his shoulder, didn’t yelp at the pain, but embraced it, shook again, this time with adrenaline and then that familiar high as Cas tugged at the skin, worrying it with his tongue and teasing brutally with his incisors until the pain was a brilliance in Dean’s consciousness. He focused on that, on the thrill of physical ecstasy having Castiel’s mouth so abuse his flesh brought, and for a few moments, it helped him forget the pain.

 

“We should stop,” Cas rumbled beside him some time later. 

“Wh—“ Dean sat up, the emotional pain becoming tension in his limbs and stinging in his eyes again. He moved to get up off the bed past Cas, but his Dom put a hand on his shoulder. 

“Listen to me. I know you like it hard, but I'm not going to bite enough to draw blood on you today. You’ve been through enough. Just…rest awhile. Stay the night…” 

Dean acquiesced, sinking back into the mattress as Cas pulled the blankets up around his naked body, pulling his sub into his arms again. 

“Stay here with me, Dean, until you’re alright?” 

“Yes,” Dean mumbled, his voice a choked whisper. 

*

Days later, Dean stared in the mirror as he shaved, turning to see the bruises on his back. The teeth-marks had faded a bit, but were still there. He traced them with his fingertips, the dull pain a mark that someone had cared enough to hold on to him, spent those hours squeezing him as if to expel the pain from his body, and worked so, even if ultimately in vain, to replace it with some of the physical pleasures he often sought. 

No, it hadn’t fixed it, but…Looking again in the mirror, he saw proof. Proof someone cared, enough to gift him with bruises in the shape of their teeth. It wasn’t love of the romantic sort, nor was this the mark of their usual lust, but rather…something else, something elusive, but no less profound.


End file.
